Memories
by yet-i-remain-quiet
Summary: While on their roadtrip, Oliver and Felicity visit Donna in Vegas. While reminiscing over old photos, Oliver tells Felicity the story of the very first time he saw her.


Oliver and Felicity had been away from Starling City for three weeks. Three weeks of pure happiness, pure bliss. They had been spending their days, driving from city to city, finding adventures wherever they could and creating new memories everywhere they went, together. The pair had spent a lot of time getting to truly know one another. Oliver had been shocked, and a little ashamed, by how little he had actually known about Felicity, even after spending the better part of three years together.

There was now, very little that Oliver did not know about Felicity. For example, he knew that she, though usually a cheerful person, did not like getting up in the mornings. And often, until she had her first cup of coffee she was quite snappy, biting out sarcastic comments. She preferred to burrow deeper into his chest and the covers each morning as she she fought to keep her body from waking up. She didn't like tomatoes or pie. When Oliver questioned how anyone could not like pie, Felicity had replied that fruit wasn't meant to be cooked. She had never been to Disneyland, despite it being in close proximity to where she grew up in Las Vegas. Her favourite book series was Harry Potter, and she has seen every episode of Doctor Who. He knew all her fears and dreams for her future. A future that now included him.

Oliver revelled in each small piece of information that he learned about Felicity, storing each fact away. He was enjoying getting to know the woman he loved, the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. No matter how trivial each fact seemed, he wanted to know everything about her and share everything about his past with her in return.

It was the Wednesday morning of their third week, when Felicity requested that their next stop, be Las Vegas, to visit her mother. Oliver had immediately complied, knowing how important the newly repaired relationship with her mother was to Felicity.

Oliver found himself surprised at the lack of nerves he was feeling, at the thought of seeing his girlfriend's mother. While he had met her previously, it had only been for a very short amount of time, and that had been before he and Felicity were even together. In all of his previous relationships, Oliver had always dreaded, if not entirely avoided, meeting the parents of the girl he was seeing. This time, however, he was eager, if not excited, at the thought of seeing Donna Smoak again.

Donna had been overjoyed to see the couple. Even more so once she could see that they were together and happy. She immediately had threw herself towards them, pulling both Oliver and Felicity into a tight hug. She had launched into 'I told you so' lines, recounting how she had known from the first moment she had seen them together, that they would end up together.

The couple followed Donna into her living room and sat down on the couch as she brought them cups of coffee. Oliver looked around, taking in every detail of the house Felicity had grown up in.

"And you know," Donna said, a wide grin across her face as she regarded the couple. "If you weren't together, by the next phone call I had with Felicity. I was fully prepared to get on a plane to Starling, lock you two alone in a room myself, and not let you out until you were together. With food and condoms of course."

"Mom," Felicity groaned, her cheeks flushed as she covered her face with her hands.

"What?" Donna questioned innocently. "Honey, look at him. Don't try and tell me you haven't taken a bite or two."

"Mother," Felicity screeched. Oliver looked between the mother and daughter, a smile on his face, enjoying the interaction.

"How did you know?" Oliver interrupted, mildly curious how a woman he had only briefly met, could have known of the feelings he had towards her daughter.

"Oh, a mother always knows," Donna answered with a smile. "And Felicity lit up like a Christmas tree when she talked about you. And you Mr. Queen, were not too secretive or subtle about your feelings. Your eyes followed her everywhere. The two of you move in sync with one another. If Felicity moves, you shadow her movements."

Oliver shook his head in disbelief. "I never even realized…" he trailed off, gazing at Felicity. "I always thought I was better at hiding it."

Felicity looked at Oliver, a soft smile on her face. "You were most of the time," she confirmed. "There were times that I had convinced myself that I was making it all up. Imagining it. Except for when we met Barry. Your jealousy was definitely showing then."

Oliver looked down, focusing his gaze on his coffee cup, he felt his cheeks heat up as he remembered the first time he had encountered Barry Allen. He had barely recognized the feelings of jealousy, that had all but consumed him as he watched Felicity interact with Barry. Jealousy was a feeling he hadn't been very familiar with, until he met Felicity. He loathed seeing her interact with any other men, hated watching as men flirted with her or showed interest in her. It hurt, when he felt he couldn't be with her, to think of the possibility that he could lose her to someone else. That someone else could make her happy.

Felicity reached over and took Oliver's hand, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Hey," she murmured. "Where'd you go?"

Oliver shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. "Somewhere I don't have to go again," he whispered. "Not if I have you."

Felicity's face brightened, she leaned over and pressed her lips to Oliver's softly, oblivious to the fact that her mother was still in the room, watching them with a smile on her face.

"You two are adorable," Donna gushed, as she clapped her hands.

Felicity pulled back from Oliver, biting her lip. "Right, we have an audience," she whispered, her cheeks filled with a light blush.

The three spent the next few hours, reminiscing over stories of Felicity's past, ignoring Felicity's protests. Which only got louder as her mother began to go through an old box of photos.

"Here's Felicity at her first science fair," Donna held a photo of a much younger Felicity, with brown hair, standing next to a small robotic looking machine. "She built that herself. Used her father's old electronic collection."

"Your hair is dark," Oliver whispered in amazement.

Felicity looked over the the photo. "Yeah, I told you, I-"

"You dye it," Oliver interrupted, running his fingers through her blonde hair, which hung in loose waves around her face, free of the confines of its usual ponytail. "I guess I just never pictured it to be that dark."

"Here she is in her fifth grade play," Donna said holding out another. "She was a tree."

The photos continued to be passed around, showing Felicity at various ages, various stages in her life. Oliver enjoyed every minute, savouring each detail that Donna shared, filing away each memory of Felicity.

"And here's Felicity the day she left for college," Donna recounted as she held the photo out to Oliver.

As Oliver reached his hand out, Felicity's hand shout out, grabbing the photo before he could. She held it face down against her chest.

"And sharing time is over," Felicity said standing up, still hiding the photo. "I thought I got rid of all of these," Felicity muttered, folding the picture and sliding it into the back pocket of her jeans.

"Oh Felicity," Donna protested lightly. "What's wrong with that one?"

Felicity closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before facing her mother. "Mom," she said, changing the subject. "It's been a long day, I'm really tired."

Donna looked at her daughter and nodded. "Of course, your old room is all set up."

Oliver stood up and faced the two women. "I'll grab our things from the car. And I'll take the couch."

"Don't be silly, Oliver," Donna objected. "You and Felicity are both consenting adults, you can sleep with Felicity in her room. Although, no grandbabies yet. I am not old enough to be a grandmother just yet."

Oliver opened his mouth to object, as Felicity groaned with embarrassment.

"It's easier to just agree," Felicity joked, leaning her forehead on Oliver's chest.

Oliver looked down at Felicity as she curled closer to his chest, she took his hand and pulled him outside to get their suitcases from the car.

Oliver carried their things inside and followed Felicity to her childhood bedroom. She left him alone as she headed to the washroom to prepare for bed. He sat down on the bed, which was covered by a black comforter and took in his surroundings.

The walls were painted a dark blue and Oliver was surprised by the amount of posters for bands that appeared to fall under the punk rock genre, that were taped to the walls. The walls were, unsurprisingly, lined with bookshelves, stacked high with books. The were a number of computers and other electronic devices, all in various stages of completion, strewn about the room.

"Well, Mom hasn't changed a thing," Felicity commented with a laugh as she returned, her face now clean of make up.

Oliver looked at his girlfriend, taking in her appearance. Her blonde hair, pulled back in a loose braid, glasses perched on her nose. She was wearing one of his old t-shirts, which was too large for her small frame, it slipped off her shoulder, and stopped just above her knees, leaving her long legs bare.

His eyes moved deliberately around her room, observing it for a second time. The books and computer items, felt like Felicity. But the colours, all seemed too dark for the bright girl he knew to be Felicity. The contradiction of the girl who stood before him and the darkness of the room, left Oliver feeling completely bewildered.

"Felicity?" Oliver inquired. "Is this really your room?"

"Yeah," Felicity answered, her tone coloured with confusion, as she looked around her old bedroom. "It's a little weird, seeing you in here. I've never had a boy in my room before. I mean, when I was in high school, I never had a boyfriend, or any friends really. So, you're sort of the first person, other than my mom, to be in here."

"It's just," Oliver started. "It's not really what I was expecting. It's… I just pictured. It just…"

"We've been over this before Oliver, usually it's me talking in sentence fragments," Felicity teased as Oliver struggled to get his words out.

"It's so dark," Oliver finally blurted.

Felicity stared at Oliver for a moment, before her laughter filled the small bedroom.

Oliver waited until her laughter had stopped before he asked what he had said that she found so funny.

"Oliver, I wasn't always _this_ ," Felicity revealed, gesturing to herself.

"What do you mean?" Oliver asked, still not understanding.

Felicity sighed deeply, she moved to sit beside Oliver on the bed, tucking her feet underneath her. She chewed on her lip, a thoughtful look on her face. She took Oliver's hand in her own.

"After my dad left," she explained. "I… it was hard. I felt like he abandoned me, like I must have done something wrong to make him leave. And then I was angry with my mom, and I guess I wanted to be the opposite of her.

"So, in my rebellion, I painted my room dark colours. I listened to loud, angry music and I wore a lot of black clothes. Never dresses."

Oliver squinted his eyes and looked at Felicity, struggling to picture the girl she was describing. "Does this have something to do with the picture that you didn't want me to see?"

Felicity groaned and fell back so she was laying flat on her bed. "Can we just forget about the picture?" she muttered, pulling her pillow over her face.

Oliver laid down, next to Felicity, he propped his head up with his hand and faced her, gently pulling the pillow away from her face.

"It can't be that bad," he whispered.

"It is," Felicity stated as she rolled onto her side and faced Oliver.

"You've seen all of my old photos online," Oliver argued gently.

Felicity rolled onto her back and stared and the ceiling for a moment before she sat up. She moved off the bed and found the jeans she had been wearing. She reached into the back pocket and took out the folded up photo. She unfolded it, pressing out the creases and held it tightly to her chest.

"You have to promise not to laugh," she said firmly.

"I promise," Oliver swore.

"Okay," she took a deep breath and handed Oliver the photo, face down.

He carefully took it from her and turned it over. In the photo, was a young Felicity, hardly recognizable. In the photo, she stood next to a small hatchback car. Her arms were folding tightly against her chest and a scowl spread across her face. Her hair was dyed black with purple streaks and she wore heavy eye make up, her usual glasses, absent. Her shape, covered by oversized, baggy black clothing. The Felicity in the photo, looked nothing like the Felicity that stood before him.

Oliver brought the photo closer to his face as he continued to inspect it. As he held it closer to his face, he was able make out her blue eyes and he could recognize her small button nose. Her stance, similar to the one she donned when she was angry or disagreed with something Oliver did.

"This doesn't look like you," Oliver expressed, shaking his head as he handed the photo back to her.

Felicity smiled. "That was kind of the point. But I guess everyone has bad photos buried in their pasts."

Oliver looked offended. "Speak for yourself," he joked. "My old photos are fine."

Felicity snorted. "Really?" she said. "There is a picture of you peeing on a police car. And in half of the photos, you're so drunk off your ass you can barely stand."

"Paparazzi photos don't count," Oliver debated. "No one looks good in those. They try to catch you in your worst moments."

"Then what about the one that they kept showing when you came back," Felicity challenged. "The one of you and your dad. Your hair all greased back, and the look on your face, you look like a serial killer."

Oliver's mouth dropped open. "You said I was cute," he recalled.

"In real life, yeah," Felicity confirmed. "But that photo. Yikes."

"No," Oliver stated. "When you looked at that photo, you said I was cute."

Felicity looked at Oliver, her eyes squinted in confusion, her head tilted to the side. "When did I say that?"

Oliver took a deep breath, remembering the very first time that he ever saw Felicity. Before he knew who she was, before he knew what she would come to mean to him.

"Remember when I told you that I came back to Starling, before actually coming back?" he prompted.

"You saw Thea," Felicity recounted. "I remember. You told me about that when we were going to Nanda Parbat."

"She wasn't the only person I saw," Oliver revealed. "I had to break into QC. I needed information from one of the computers. In my father's old office.

"It was late, I didn't think anyone would still be at the office. I was almost finished, when I heard someone coming. Maseo told me to leave, but I didn't have time, so I hid. I could hear the sound of heels, clicking on the floor. And I saw a blonde walk in, her hair in a ponytail. She brought a file in, and put it on the desk. I thought she would leave right away, but she didn't. She looked at one of the pictures on the desk. The one of me and my dad. And she said that I was cute, but it was too bad that I was dead. Which was worse for for you than me, and that you had to learn to stop talking to yourself."

Felicity scrunched her nose and looked at Oliver. "I don't remember that," she said thoughtfully. "I guess I spend so much time talking to myself and babbling that it all blurs into one embarrassing horror story, that I try not to think about. You were really there?"

"I waited until you left," Oliver concluded. "And then got the rest of the information that I was after and left."

"Is that why you came to me, when you came back," Felicity questioned. "Because you remembered me."

"No," Oliver shook his head. "I didn't remember you. I never even knew your name. I didn't recognize you, not until I went to see you, and you started babbling about how my father drowned."

Felicity groaned. "Of course, that's what would make you remember me. My horrible talent for babbling."

"You made me smile," Oliver confessed. "Both times. The first time I saw you, I smiled, I couldn't even remember the last time I had smiled. And the second time, you made me smile, it was the first smile that wasn't planned or forced. I just smiled. I always smile more around you. And I love your babbling."

Felicity leaned up on her elbows, she rested one on Oliver's chest, looking him in the eye. "Careful, Mr. Queen," she taunted. "Keep up the smooth talking and we might break Mom's rule about no grandbabies."

Oliver wrapped his arms around Felicity's waist and rolled them over, his body hovered over hers. He was leaning his weight on his arms, to keep it from crushing her as she lay underneath him.

"Well," he murmured, he leaned down, teasing her neck with his lips and teeth. "We'll just have to be careful. Practice does make perfect, after all."

Felicity breathed out a giggle as she lifted her chin, giving Oliver more access to her neck. He continued his assault, moving his mouth up towards her ear, toying with the industrial piercing.

"Oliver," she muttered after a few minutes. He gave no reply as he continued to kiss and bite her neck.

"Oliver," Felicity repeated firmly, pushing on his chest.

"Yes?" he hummed as he pulled away from her neck. "I was enjoying myself."

"Me too," Felicity sighed, tempted to allow Oliver to continue his assault on her neck, and other areas. "I don't think I can do this, with you. In my old bed. With my mother sleeping down the hall."

Oliver groaned and rolled off Felicity, laying beside her, he pulled her against his chest. She curled into him, her body relaxing as sleep threatened to overtake her.

"Can we get a hotel tomorrow night?" Oliver mumbled as he began to fall asleep himself.

"If that will make you happy," Felicity whispered tiredly.

"You make me happy," Oliver confided.

When Felicity didn't answer, he opened his eyes to see she had fallen asleep, her head rested against his chest. He wrapped his arms tighter around her and welcomed sleep to claim him.

The kind of deep sleep that had alluded him for the past eight years, but over the past three weeks had come easisly. The kind of sleep that had been filled with good dreams, not the nightmares that had plagued him for years. The kind of sleep that was only possible because of the girl who slept in his arms.


End file.
